


Following the Ebb of a Ripple

by Lilili_cat



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 13:58:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilili_cat/pseuds/Lilili_cat
Summary: An AU of what might be following chapter 10 of Martesh's Ripples.





	Following the Ebb of a Ripple

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Martesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martesh/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Ripples](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19382323) by [Martesh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martesh/pseuds/Martesh). 



> To Martesh: so...I know I said a drabble. This is perhaps longer than a drabble, lol. Enjoy! And thank you for letting me play in your sandbox once again! :)

**Following the Ebb of a Ripple**  
  
  
The village springs up, but not like before, ordered and structured and sensible. Instead it is...not direlect, never that, but lacking somehow. A crucial element that should have been there to stabilize the entire thing, gone, as if a house was built with part of its foundation missing, the stone and the wood and the hardened sand mixture there, but the metal that strengthens the core, that provides crucial added stability, not.

(It would be better if it were a real house. Hashirama could simply grow it himself, never mind the details, but a village...a village is a different affair altogether, despite the experiences he already has. Or perhaps even _because of it_.)

It's made evident when, despite all of his and Madara's intentions, the clans that join them still choose to educate their own rather than sending their children off to the academy...some small detail that made it _work_ in their previous life gone now. And, try as he might, Hashirama just can't remember what it might be. He's never had a mind for the small details, preferring the larger picture, but as he's come to learn, small details are important.

Everything else sits on top of them.

Oh, he remembers the jist of it, he and Madara both, and they try to recreate their vision, but the implementation of the Chuunin exams results in too many inexperienced chuunin one year, and then not enough the next.

(They never get it just right, not like the first time around.)

The economy and trade gets set up, but somehow the terms they get from the merchants aren't as good, and their tax revenue hurts.

(This, too, they never perfect, and they are always just that much lacking in funds, just that much hampered by their disadvantage compared to their rivals in other countries.)

It's Tobirama, he would whisper when it's just he and Madara, poring over the laws and regulations and systems they set up to try to find what's amiss. Madara never says anything to that. He doesn't need to. They both know he's correct, that his sorely missed little brother was the little bit they needed to be the premier village in the shinobi nations. _His brilliance and knack for details and laws and rules and research, research, research, always analyzing, always tinkering, always improving..._

It's not that he hasn't tried to find him and bring him here now that he's wiped away the taboo that led to his banishment in the first place. It was one of the first things that he and Madara and even Izuna enacted, a pardon so they could try to bring Senju Tobirama home.

It is just that...

"Still nowhere to be found?"

Izuna, spymaster, master of secrets and whispers and alleyways, walks through the Hokage doorway and shakes his head, empty handed as he always is on this particular grade of mission. The younger Uchiha has grown up, grown past the point he would have died in the previous life. He is all slender, lethal grace, lanky and elegant—a perfect counterpart to Tobirama, if only he were _here_ —solemn of eyes, an intensity that belies his often carefully relaxed form and sharp of mind.

(Hashirama can't regret it. He doesn't regret it. Izuna has become near and dear to him, and he truly, honestly wishes the younger man well. It's just that he wishes it didn't come at the cost of his brother. Just that he wishes Tobirama could be here to share this peace they've built.)

Izuna, too, misses the young boy he used to have fun and toy with, when they were children. It had never occurred to the younger Uchiha how terrified the younger Senju boy was of his seemingly perfect counters to his jutsus, how frightening it must have seemed to the even younger Tobirama that all his new jutsu were retraced so easily and brushed aside with seemingly no effort at all.

A part of Hashirama wants to blame Izuna for it, but he knows that it is unfair, unworthy of him. Izuna was a child, truly a child, who did not know any better. A single year older than Tobirama, in both mind and body. It is he and Madara who were the adults, had the mind and experiences of adults. _Should have known better_ , as adults should have.

Perhaps his very experiences had trapped him, lured him into a complacency he would not have otherwise have. Blinded him to the ripples that could fan out from a single small change, like a single small squall out at sea eating up all the warm wet ocean air and transforming into a tsunami that batters villages by the ocean and drown countless people.

(Hindsight is not 20/20, and Hashirama would stab whoever came up with that if he could.)

"Perhaps we can't find him because he is gone. Perhaps we need to accept it."

Hashirama whirls to glare at his spymaster, but it is Madara who answers him.

"If you disappeared, otouto, even if you died, I could never give up on you. And I know you could not either. We cannot ask Hashirama to do what we could not ourselves."

And it speaks volumes that it is _Madara_ , who hates Tobirama, who hated Tobirama, who grasps this point better than anyone else, better than his own little brother, who has learned to accept the disappointments of life, better than Hashirama's advisors from the other clans, who don't understand why he spends so much effort to try to track down a child who must surely be dead by now.

They don't listen when he tells them his little brother was an administrative genius. They tell him that surely no child chased away by his own clan at the tender age of 11 could possibly be so talented (because what clan could throw away such value?) and that few children are likely to survive on their own...and anyways, the Uzumaki never saw him, so he's very likely in the Pure Lands by now.

It's better, they tell him. It's better for him that he's not troubled anymore by life's failures and cruelties. Better he learn how to craft his own laws and regulations and focus on the details like a good Hokage. Better he work on improving himself rather than hoping to find a long-lost child genius that his mind surely blew up to gargantuan heights.

(He can't blame them...they don't have the memories that he does, of what Tobirama could have become, of what Tobirama _did_ become, in another life. He's so tired and old now...too old to change and learn and become better. He's an old oak, not the swift, ever changing, ever adapting river, not even flexible smoke nor ravenous forest fire.)

And, it's not like the village is bad...it's just not as good as before in some ways. A stronger spy network, courtesy of Izuna, less division with a sane Madara at the helm, but the village structure itself is...lacking.

In the vacuum...other villages spring up. Competitors. Kiri, most disturbingly, given Madara's involvement in the past.

“We should learn from them,” Madara says one of the nights they spend poring over just where it is that they're lacking, where it is that they went differently from last time. “We should learn from them and implement their superior organization.”

And Hashirama is concerned about letting him get involved again, given what his best friend had wrought on them the first time, but Izuna speaks up then, coming up with a perfect solution.

“My agents tell me they are looking for trade of furs and grain, something Hi no Kuni specializes in. They would be open to a trade delegation between their village and ours.”

And so it is that Hashirama finds himself leading a trade delegation, himself, Madara, Izuna, the Hyuuga head woman and the Nara head in tow. (He would have wanted the Aburame except they would not join Konoha—another difference from before.)

Long before he arrives, Izuna whispers to him of the Hozuki clan, of the white-haired clan of formidable swordsmen who, once upon a time in a timeline that will now never happen would, should make Kirigakure strong...but the timing is off. They're supposed to be still wandering now, having settled only after the Sengoku Jidai was over. They aren't suppose to have been already settled in Mizu no Kuni now, and certainly not with one of their own as the first Mizukage!

Hashirama doesn't know what he feels about them, about the Mizukage. They had destroyed the Uzumaki in that future that will now never happen, but...that hasn't happened yet. Will never happen if he has anything to say about it. And with them being so strong this time around...it probably won't happen even without his intervention. (The Mizukage had waged war on Uzu due to Uzu rapidly expanding their borders and Mizu's relative weakness. Now that Mizu is strong, they will likely not need such a show of force.)

He's even less sure how he feels about their strength. It's so important that he and Madara set the example, so important that Konoha shines to encourage peace in _all_ the lands...

(Madara scoffs at him still for his idealism, but Madara doesn't realize that universal peace is a way of guaranteeing peace for their descendants in the future. Wars are not stopped at arbitrary man-made borders.)

The meet and greet goes well, for all of Hashirama's wariness. Or it goes well until he catches sight of the man's companion—not the white haired woman that he calls imouto, but the other, the white-haired man by his right side—and he freezes, forgetting all the etiquette Izuna had spent hours drilling into his head.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can just make out Madara's wide eyes and Izuna frantically trying to fill in the silence and prevent them both from mortally offending the man from their lack of manners. And, really, ordinarily he wouldn't be so bad— _he shall have to give Izuna an apology gift_ , he thinks numbly—except that the man at the Mizukage's side is so painfully familiar, all sharp angles and white hair, so similar to the Hozuki, as if he was really a part of their clan, but he's not, is he? Because he's...

"I see you've noticed my dear Otouto."

Hashirama nearly swallows his tongue at the man's words, and he's sure that, were he standing outside, a faint breeze could knock him over.

(Because he's unrooted. He's unrooted, and his truck is eaten away by the thousands of little thoughts whirling about him like locusts and...)

"Brother?" It is Madara who gasps out, gaping like a rather dismayed fish wondering at the sudden lack of water.

The Mizukage smiles, his lips pulling back from his needle-like teeth.

"Yes, brother. We found him washed up while we were emigrating to Mizu no Kuni. He didn't remember anything of where he came from. Once we cleaned him up, we saw that he looked so much like us that okaasama decided the kami must have gifted him specifically to us, to be one of our own. So we adopted him, and he's my dearest little brother now."

He reaches a fond hand out and ruffles the (so soft, so fluffy, how Hashirama's hand itches to touch it) white hair.

"His eyes and teeth are a bit different but red isn't so far from purple, and blunt teeth doesn't change anything. I am happy that we took him in. He's been a most loyal, loving and ingenious little thing, and we are all the better for him. He's truly one of ours."

The man (Tobirama, Hashirama would recognize him anywhere) shrugs off the hand with a fond, if exasperated sigh. "Anija, really...these are formal negotiations. Surely our guests can't have time for such senseless blather, can they?"

The woman at his other side _tsks_ and shakes her head. “Our older brother, ever the idiot. Good thing he has us to keep him under control and focused, eh, Takara-chan?”

Hashirama swallows through the thickness in his throat, suddenly unable to breathe. Takara. Treasured. Precious.

Takara—no, Tobirama, he will forever be Tobirama—turns to them then, he and the still gaping Madara and the Izuna who is frantically signaling at them. "Please be welcome," he says, bowing to them politely, distantly (as if they were nothing but strangers). "My brother can be a touch informal. I hope you do not mind?"

“No,” he bites out, barely remembering how to speak and is dismayed to see Tobirama— _his_ brother, _his_ —lean away from him slightly, as if one might lean away from a rabid dog.

“No,” he repeats again, more softly, more suited to greeting the ruler of a foreign village. He forces his face into a smile, a humor he does not feel. “I do not mind. He is...trusting and outspoken, that is all.”

And it pains him to see that, to see the dynamics that he _should have had in Konoha_...here.

Kirigakure, it is not where his brother belongs.

* * *

Later that evening, when they've all sat down to dine together, and Madara is picking at his food as if it might poison him and Izuna looks ashen to have missed the detail that the Mizukage's adopted little brother is actually an amnesiac grown up Senju Tobirama, Hashirama turns to the man he's searched for for so long.

“Takara-san, was it?”

Red eyes—kami, how he's missed those eyes—blink at him in welcome. He had forgotten their precise shape, the gleam in their depths when their owner found something intriguing, but he's reminded now, and it's like a balm on his soul...

“Yes, that is the name I was given by the Hozuki clan. They are very kind to have taken me in.”

“...do you ever wonder where you really came from?”

Those beloved eyes turn misty, as if Tobirama is seeing someplace into the distance that he can't quite perceive. But then, to Hashirama's disappointment, he shakes his head. “I did, once upon a time, but I find I am quite content now. The Hozuki clan have been more than good to me. I treasure my Anija—”

The word stabs at Hashirama's heart, and the food that he's eaten turns sour in his belly. He finds he must put his chopsticks away lest he become ill.

“—Are you quite alright?”

He struggles to breathe, but finally manages, “yes, I do apologize. Something disagreed with me just then.”

Red eyes flick down at his plate—how many times has he seen those mannerisms in the past, how many times has Tobirama worried about him thus in a past that was not?. “I can arrange to have something different served to you. It would reflect poorly on us if the Hokage of Konohagakure were to fall ill—”

His words drift off as Hashirama catches his hand in his own, and he sits staring at him, blinking. “Are you happy here, with the Hozuki?”

* * *

Takara doesn't know what to say. Certainly, he's been well-trained in diplomatic affairs and is quite a deft hand at them even at the tender age of 20, but this is far from the normal situation!

He tries to pull his hand away, disturbed by the intensity in the Hokage's demeanor.

“I'm sorry?” he says, for lack of anything better as the man _just won't give up his hand!_

Really, this is not normal protocol.

Senju Hashirama leans in close, a fervent expression in his eyes that almost has Takara worrying he's going to propose something indecent. Or something illegal.

Quickly, he signals to his brother and sister that he's not being manhandled...just yet. (Hikaru and Akari can be somewhat overprotective, and he really doesn't need Anija or Ane-ue starting a diplomatic incident because the Hokage is overly enthusiastic.)

“Please,” the Hokage almost _begs_ , and he's seriously starting to get alarmed. This _can't_ be normal, even by this man's reputation. “Please, I must know...are you happy here, in this situation, with this family that you weren't born with?”

Is he happy?

Of all the ridiculous things he's ever been asked at a diplomatic dinner...

He moves to tell the Hokage off (politely of course), but there are actual _tears_ in the man's eyes and...

Well, it couldn't hurt to answer truthfully. Not like something like this can be used against them.

So he does.

“Very happy,” he declares. “Anija is kind and generous and the epitome of a good elder brother. He always thinks of me and Ane-ue, he always thinks about our welfare and how to protect our clan and make us strong—as a team. But he cares for us beyond that. It's not just clan dynamics,” and he doesn't know how he knows that given that the Hozuki are the only clan he's ever known, “but he loves us for who we are. And he wants to see us happy and content through it all.”

He looks away, suddenly shy in the face of the heartbroken look in those brown eyes. Faintly familiar brown eyes, but it's like they're shrouded in a faraway dream...and why would he care for that? He has the reality that he's in, which is much better than any dream he can't remember and has him waking up in tears.

Anija has always held him through those nights, early on, and Ane-ue used to sing him back to sleep. He meshes _so_ well with them, looks and build and affinity for Suiton and his skill at kenjutsu to boot, that he can't even believe it himself that he was not born of them, that he is merely a foundling that they took pity on. (He's so grateful that they took him in. So very grateful that he has their love and affection.)

“You sound...very happy indeed,” the broken voice whispers.

Broken? Why? The Hokage is a strange man indeed, stranger than even his reputation.

Takara shrugs. “I can't imagine myself happier, or with better company than my beloved Anija and my amazing Ane-ue.”

* * *

It hurts.

It hurts so much to hear Tobirama—no, Takara. He's Takara now isn't he?

His Tobirama is dead, and he killed him with his own two hands, shredded the possibility that he could grow up to become...to become...

“Then,” he whispers even as the tears run down his cheeks, “I am happy for you, too.”

“Takara-san.”


End file.
